


Let's Talk About It

by Maitimiel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Awkwardness Kink, I said it, M/M, all is fluff that ends in fluff, awkward conversations are my kink, misscomunications, there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8911966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maitimiel/pseuds/Maitimiel
Summary: Yuri can't wait for his eighteen birthday.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nobetterpicture](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterpicture/gifts).



For Yuri, the rink had always been more than just a place to train, more than the ground on which to skate. On the ice rink, he was the star. It was him, and only him, that everyone was looking at. He alone held the audience's attention, at least when he was performing. He'd never think to share such a sacred space with anyone else.

 

That was, until he met Otabek.

 

The first time, Yuri had been practicing alone after hours, a few weeks before the Russian Nationals took place, and Otabek had been watching from the sidelines, his cell phone forgotten in his hands. Yuri could feel his eyes on him, every single moment. It was both amazing and agonizing. Before he could think it through, he had skated to where Otabek was and practically growled at him to get his skates on and get on the rink.

 

(Much later, as Yuri was telling someone he didn't share the rink, Otabek raised his eyebrows at him and he blushed, not really sure of what to say.)

 

Not that he still lacked words now; on the contrary, he had used many of them, on many different occasions, but his words fell on deaf ears, stupidly so.

 

"Two weeks. I'll be eighteen in two weeks. Thirteen days, to be exact."

 

Otabek moved away from him for the shortest moment, swirled around him, and came to stand behind Yuri's back, his hands resting softly on Yuri's hips. "Two weeks will pass in a flash."

 

"Yes, but then the Grand Prix will be over and you'll go away to Almaty, and I'll have to go back to St. Petersburg. We might not see each other for _months_!" Yuri turned in place to meet Otabek face to face, the length of his body pressing lightly against his boyfriend's. "Let's not wait. Let's do it now."

 

"What is the problem with waiting a couple of months? We have waited this long." He didn't push Yuri away, wrapping his arms around him more firmly, but still the gesture was maddeningly chaste. "What is the rush?"

 

Yuri groaned, burying his face on Otabek's neck, and changed strategy.

 

"Will we still be together two years from now?" he asked, and he felt Otabek's pulse quicken under his skin.

 

"What? Of course we will. I mean, I hope so! Why are you asking this?" He sounded much more anxious than anticipated, and Yuri felt slightly guilty. He held Otabek harder.

 

"What difference will it make, two years from now, if we waited for these damned weeks? We won't even remember."

 

"I will. Yuri, I wanna do this right. I don't want to rush things; I don't want to do something that we may regret later." His voice was soft, but firm, and Yuri had to restrain himself very hard from whining and complaining.

 

"I don't want to be away from you that long. I want to have something to remember you by." I want you to remember _me_ , he would never say, but Otabek knew, anyway.

 

"It won't be that long. I'll come by. I'll come to St. Petersburg and we'll spend loads of time together. I promise," he reassured, planting a kiss on the top of Yuri's head.

 

Yuri put his arms on Otabek's chest and pushed him away, though not with much determination. "Whatever. We should go back to training; we only have five days until the final."

 

He skated away, not looking back, but Otabek smiled before starting his own practice. They might be listening to their headphones and doing their own routines, but still, they were skating together.

 

***

 

Otabek _had_ kept his promise, and he had traveled to St. Petersburg not a week after Yuri's birthday. For a couple of days they had walked around town, shopping and sightseeing, and mostly sharing a pot of tea in a more secluded tea shop downtown, and talking a lot. They had the time. The skating season wouldn't start for several months, and while neither of them could afford to stop training altogether, they didn't have to practice as many hours everyday, nor deal with their coaches or answer to anybody other than their families. So they wandered, and talked, and held hands as much as they wished, no need to rush anything.

Five days after Otabek's arrival, though, they still hadn't Done It.

 

It was no big deal, Yuri told himself frantically as they were walking back to Otabek's hotel after spending the day together. Yuri's grandfather would spend the weekend with his ancient sister, in the countryside, and they hadn't exactly established anything, but like an unspoken agreement, when they finished their tea, they had interlaced their fingers and started to walk towards the place where Otabek had been staying, and Yuri wanted to talk about it, but not really, cause this had been his idea to begin with and he was _not_ freaking out.

 

Like, at all.

 

Otabek had been silent the entire walk.

 

They reached the hotel after maybe a fifteen-minute walk, but it had seemed much faster. The receptionist greeted them effusively, and Yuri winced so obviously it was surprising she had managed to keep the smile up. Otabek took the keys to his room, and they went on upwards.

 

The key made so much noise Yuri half expected people to come to the hall to see what was happening. When the door opened, Otabek very formally asked if Yuri would like to come in. He laughed nervously and stepped inside, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands.

 

They stood.

 

Then Yuri decided standing in the middle of the room was stupid, and he sat down on the small couch under the window. He managed not to stare out of the window, but he wasn't sure staring at his feet was that much better.

 

The couch sagged when Otabek sat next to him, his hand softly covering Yuri's own. The warmth was surprisingly reassuring. This was Otabek. He knew him. He had been making out with him for over a year. _Get over yourself_ , he told his inner self. He could do this. He had wanted, craved this less than a month ago.

 

With little to no warning, he shifted to face Otabek and sank his fingers into his hair, kissing him fiercely, like a warrior.

 

Otabek let him for maybe a few minutes, but as soon as Yuri's hands moved from his hair to the hem of his shirt, he pulled away quickly, as far as the tiny couch allowed him, one hand firmly pressed to Yuri's chest, keeping him from attacking again. Yuri was pleased to see he was breathless, but not so pleased with what Otabek said:

 

"We gotta talk." He let go of Yuri, running a hand through his own hair.

 

"What is there to talk about?" he asked defensively, a little breathless himself. His hands were shaking, so he laid them on his thighs and looked at Otabek, confrontationally.

 

"This is going too fast," he said, taking deep breaths.

 

" _This_ is taking _over an year!_ " Anger started to surface, and he welcomed it, welcomed the familiar, more comfortable feeling compared to the insecurity he'd been dealing with so far. He stood up and started pacing to better act out his fit. "It's the _opposite_ of fast. You _promised_ me!"

 

"But we need to _talk!_ " Otabek said, following him with frantic eyes, a note of panic coloring his otherwise even tone.

 

" _We have!_ ”

 

"No, we haven't!" Otabek's voice grew louder, and he seemed angry himself. "Not really, not about anything that matters. We've agreed we wanted to sleep together, but we haven't actually figured out what this means, how we feel about it, or what kind of experience and expectations we have, or who will—" he blushed bright red then "— _you know._ "

"What do you mean 'who will', you're obviously gonna..." Yuri's brain caught up to his ears and he trailed off for a second. Turning to face Otabek who was on the edge of the couch, he crossed his arms and asked, much more slowly, "What do you mean 'what kind of experience we have'?"

 

Otabek was becoming redder by the second. He looked away before saying, "We haven't talked."

 

Feeling his anger recede inside himself, Yuri sat back down, staring at his boyfriend with big, curious eyes. "You know very well I have no experience. Your fault, by the way. What kind of experience do you have?"

 

Otabek's blush deepened, going all the way to his collarbone. He kept staring ahead, so Yuri shifted closer and pressed on: "I'm trying to do the talking thing now."

 

"I've had a – I wouldn't call him my boyfriend. We trained together. We did stuff."

 

"What kind of stuff?" Yuri asked carefully, realizing he was both very curious and also didn't actually wanted to hear about it at all. He pulled Otabek's hand into his, much smaller, reassuringly. Otabek seemed to relax a little. He gave Yuri the smallest smile, still tense.

 

"Some stuff. We didn't go all the way. But we did, like, oral stuff. And hand stuff." Otabek closed his eyes when he was finished.

 

"Would you like to do something like that?" he asked, still processing. So if Otabek and his only ex hadn't actually...

 

"Not really."

 

Yuri's heart sank.

 

"Well if you don't want to we can just..." Watch a movie? Go to the rink?

 

"I want to." Otabek's voice was firmer now, more like his usual self. "I want to do more than that, if you want it. But I also want... he and I never talked about stuff. I never really knew what he was thinking, what he wanted. I want to know what you're thinking. I want you to know what I'm thinking. I don't want this to be like that."

 

"Oh," Yuri whispered, more to himself than to his boyfriend. He stood up, made a half circle around the room, and then came back to stand in front of Otabek, who stared at Yuri, unsure. Even like this, Yuri wasn't much taller than he was. "It won’t be like that," he said, fiercely, not breaking eye contact. "It won't be like that cause we _know_ what the other is thinking, all the time. You know what I'm thinking. I love you. I want you. And I trust you. You're not some guy I train with, you're _you_ , my boyfriend, and we both know it. We're both very clear about that, okay?" It wasn't the most coherent of speeches, but it would have to do. Yuri wasn't good with feelings, anyway, and Otabek knew that better than anybody. "There is no chance that we are gonna end like that, cause I'm nothing like that guy. Honestly I don't see why you'd be concerned about it at all."

 

Otabek laughed softly at that, and Yuri felt himself blush. He didn't dwell on it, though, because Otabek pulled him closer, his strong arms yanking Yuri onto his lap with a yelp of protest.

 

"Thank you," he said under Yuri's ear, causing him to shiver. "I love you too, you know."

 

" _Of course_ I know. You idiot, you don't have to _thank me_."

Otabek didn't answer, nuzzling Yuri's neck instead. Yuri felt himself melt, and turned in his grasp to meet Otabek's lips, his hands burying themselves in Otabek’s hair. They stayed like that for a long time, thinking of nothing but each other. Many, many hours after they had arrived, it was Otabek who asked, languidly:

"So, are you still up for..."


End file.
